Becky the Criminal

It was just supposed to be a routine name change on my driver's license. It was one of those things that I had never gotten around to doing, and I figured after 7 years of marriage it was time to officially take my husband's name on all my paperwork.

The thought of being in the line up with the baby was a daunting one, so I decided to do it on Charlotte's day care day. Good call.

I smiled politely and gave my marriage certificate and license to the lady at the desk. She laughed when she saw our wedding date and said while giggling, "My my, is this your Christmas present to your husband?" while she looked at her computer screen. Then almost as quickly, her laugh turned to a frown and she looked at me with daggers in her eyes.

"Um, I'm sorry, but I need to confiscate your license,"she snapped. I looked at her in bewilderment, surprised by the sudden change in attitude. "I beg your pardon?" I asked. She looked at me like I was crazy, and said flatly, "Look, your license was suspended in December of 2008 for a DUI. I don't know why you still have it in your possession."

DUI? As in driving under the influence? ME? The girl who gets nervous when the hubby drives after just one beer and regularly tells friends and family off about it? I stood there dumbstruck, trying to make sense of what she was saying.

"I think there must be some mistake," I stuttered. "The only traffic violation I've ever gotten was a speeding ticket when I was 18. I don't EVER drink and drive, I don't drink now because I'm nursing my daughter, and I was pregnant at that time. Plus I was in France in December '08. Could it be identity theft?"

The reasons for why it couldn't be me started spilling out of my mouth fast and furious. I tried to keep my calm, knowing that blowing up would probably count against me. Another worker heard my pleas and came to look at my file. She took me over to a remote desk and called her superior. I could tell she didn't believe me by the way she presented my case. Thinking about it now, she must have seen a lot of guilty people at her job, and to her I was just another one in denial.

She warned me that I had commited a felony by driving for the last 2 years with a suspended license, and that had I been pulled over for a routine check or ticket I would have been brought to jail. She also told me that I had not been covered by any insurance. The thought of this started to overwhelm me, and I lost my cool and started to get pretty teary eyed. I mean, they were assuming I was guilty, and there was nothing I could do about it except proclaim my innocence. I called Julien, asking him if we still had our plane tickets, proving that I was out of the country when this so called indiscretion had occured. He assured me we did, plus my pay stubs and everything else that would prove I was abroad at the time of the crime. I started to feel a little better, and told them I would bring everything in that they needed to see.

The lady and her superior decided to call paper records in Victoria to pull out the file and at least tell me what the exact charges were, because it was classified information that she didn't have access to. After an hour and a half search, they were unable to come up with the file in Victoria, simply because it didn't exist. It turns out that they had electronically attached my driver's license number to someone else's DUI. They corrected their system and attached it to (hopefully) the right file.

So for an hour and a half, I was a criminal. Actually, I was a criminal for 2 years and just didn't know it. I have a new appreciation for people who are innocent and wronfully accused, because it's got to be one of the worst feelings in the world. I think what really bothers me is that fact that if I had had an accident or something, our entire lives would have been ruined because someone wasn't diligent in their work. That's a really scary thought.

Thank God that He was watching out for us and they were able to fix it before it was too late. Thank God.

The Big W

Work. When my little one was first born, the thought of going back was a completely overwhelming one. I mean, I was sleep deprived, sore, nursing, and just 100% not ready. When we moved back to Canada, I didn't want to work until I was sure that Charlotte had adjusted to the move. Then I wanted to wean her on her own terms. Slowly and surely, however, I started longing for a reason to dress up a little and do my hair and make up. A reason to have some adult conversations and maybe do something completely different than empty the dishwasher, wipe dirty bums and play dolls.

Thus the search for a job began. The criteria was strict. Only part time would do, no more than 16 hours a week so that I would still be able to have a family life and not leave my child to be raised at day care. It had to be close to home. NO mornings allowed. And, most important, it had to be a career job, with good pay. Good luck with that, I thought to myself. I pretty much knew a job like that would probably be impossible to find, mostly because it probably didn't exist. Part of me wondered if it was just an excuse to not work at all and just stay with the little one.

Despite my misgivings, I diligently searched for the job. Weeks went by, and applications were without follow up. I got a little discouraged, but then, there was a bite. An interview! I went to the interview and soon realized this was not at all the position I had applied for. It was better. But I wasn't sure how I had mistakenly sent my resume to this particular place. Of course, I didn't want to say anything to the interviewer. I went along with it, got through to the end of it, and went straight home to my computer. I soon discovered my error; during my job search, I had opened 2 different job tab windows at the same time. And then I had inadvertently copied the wrong email address, the one for the job I thought I was not qualified for.

Interestingly enough, I got a call back for a second interview. The hours were explained (Tuesday 2-8,Fridays 1-6, and Saturdays 8-1!) as well as what they were looking for. As I heard them speak, I KNEW this job was for me. ALL of my demanding criteria was met (ok, except for one tiny saturday morning). And the very next day, I got the call that I was to start the week of Christmas. It was such an amazing answer to prayer.

I've now been working for 3 weeks and things are great. It is so nice to come home to see my little girl. I appreciate my time with her so much more. I'm more relaxed when she has temper tantrums. I'm excited to play dolls. So, for me, the compromise between part time work and home life could not be a better one.
And everyone is happy!

Honey Melts

Ever since I've known my husband I've called him Hon. As in Honey, but the short form (I think this was during my Friends craze and Jennifer Aniston called everyone Honey) "Hi, Hon. How are you doing?" "Hon, could you please take out the trash?" "Hon, do you know where the keys are?" "Hon, do you have any plans for the weekend?"
Hon, Hon, Hon.

The funny thing is that after a while, he started calling me Hon, too. "Hon, do you need the car tomorrow? Hon, can I help you with anything? Hon, do you like this shirt?" Hon, Hon, Hon.

What I didn't realize was how observant little 18 month olds really are.

My little one was having a mega tantrum, screaming "MAMAAAAAAAAAN!!!!!!!!!!" (she calls me the French way, maman) I always tell her that I won't listen to her until she uses a nice voice to address me. This usually means she screams it out until she realizes that no one is paying any attention, and then will call me nicely, saying, "Maman, up please?" And then I come and pick her up.

So anyways, she was having one of her flamboyant tantrums, and I told her the same thing as always," Charlotte, sweetie, I can't hear you when you scream like that. When you talk to me nicely I will be happy to help you." This time, for some reason, she stopped mid scream and came up to me, started caressing my shoulder, and said, "Hon?".

At first, I wasn't sure if I had heard her right. But then she kept caressing me and saying, "Hon, walk please?" I burst out laughing, realizing she was doing what Julien and I apparently do when we talk to each other. He always rubs my shoulder and says, "Hon?".

Now that Charlotte gets the reaction she wants, she does it all the time now, a big grin on her face. And it melts my heart every time she says it.

The Kissing Disease

Every Tuesday, I bundle my little one up and drive her to day care. There are several reasons why I do this, but I think the main one is so that I can get a much needed break, and give her one too.

As much fun as it is washing the floor only to have her drop her milk all over it, fold clothing to have her throw all my nice clean piles on the floor, and tidy in one room while she destroys the other, I just need one day to myself where I don't need to take her grocery shopping. I mean, she's THAT kid. The one that has several hugemegaenormoussuperembarressing tantrums in the store. The one that screams bloody murder, causing everyone to stare and give dissaproving looks.

So I didn't think that it would be too much to ask. Just have her play with her buddies for one day a week, allowing me to clean my house in one go, get my shopping done quickly and with no meltdowns, and also have an hour or two to read.

This was all well and good. It was working wonderfully. Until the day she brought something home with her. Sore throat. Sniffles. High fever. Puking. Then, because I can't stay away from those chubby little cheeks, I came down with it. Except mine seemed a little worse. Sore armpits. Sore everything. I went to the doctor, and he ran some tests. His fears were confirmed: Mono. The kissing disease.

I remember in grade 5 someone came down with mono. We made fun of them, saying it was the kissing disease. Obviously they had come down with it while K-I-S-S-I-N-G in a tree. It was kind of those illnesses you dream about as a kid, because those poor patients stayed away from school for months. The thought of lying in bed playing nintendo and having my mother wait on me hand and foot was amazing.

Was I ever stupid. Mono is NOT fun. Now, because of my selfish desire to have some alone time, Charlotte got mono, and I am the most tired I have ever been. I drag myself out of bed in the morning, drag myself around the house all day, drag drag drag. I take lots of vitamins, and try to eat as well as I can, but it's sure slow going. It could take 6 months before I'm back to my old self. That's a long time.

On the bright side, Charlotte is fine. She just takes 2.5 hour naps now, something that is unprecedented in our home. So while I am not thrilled about this illness, it will get better, and my daughter is actually SLEEPING. I guess it's not so bad afterall.